


(just like) starting over

by merrymelody



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:52:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymelody/pseuds/merrymelody
Summary: Based aroundthisidea I had for an alternate S3, read if you want vague spoilers of where I'm hoping to take it, or ignore.It follows the basic episode structure for season 3, but with established Nathan/Simon. It'll be eight parts - so far, the first chapter's Simon's POV, second Curtis', third Nathan's and fourth Alisha's.





	1. episode 1

‘Heard from Nathan?’ Kelly asks. 

Simon turns politely on his stool to answer. ‘The train got in at five. His dad’s picking him up.’ 

‘One of you two needs to pass your test, already’, Alisha rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t get my licence back for another month, I’m so sick of taxis.’ She turns to Kelly. ‘You’re a rocket scientist, a driving test should be easy, get on with it!’ 

‘It’s not the test, mate, it’s the cost. Ain’t got a job, the insurance’d be massive… Why don’t you ask Daddy for a loan?’ 

‘So get a job! What’s the point of your power if you’re not getting something out of it, it’s hardly like you’re gonna be dealing with loads of rockets round here.’

‘Fuck off, why don’t you use yours? Get a job down the pier telling fortunes, should pay for a Skoda at least…’

Alisha jabs her with an elbow, a split-second pause the only thing to give away her excitement at being able to touch people again. 

‘I wasn’t meant for manual labour, I was meant for a life of luxury’, Alisha smirks. ‘The bar was bad enough, they wanted us in to open at 11, that’s still brunch time.’ 

Curtis dusts his shoulders in her direction sarcastically. ‘Miss you too!’ 

‘You and fookin’ brunch, it’s just a Greggs with a fancy name!’ Kelly grumbles. 

Simon smiles at the bickering as Rudy interrupts, leaning over to collect drinks for the dates at his table. ‘You got a text, dude’, he offers, peering at Simon’s screen. 

Simon looks horrified, making protective motions towards his phone, and methodically scrolling through the call log. 

‘Hey, I was doin’ you a favour! Manners don’t cost anything, you know,’ Rudy begins, but Simon’s already exiting, calling to Kelly: ‘He’s outside, paying for the taxi.’ 

Rudy sighs. Some people were raised in a barn.

*

‘…Forget, didn’t he? Useless twat’, Nathan spits, entering and immediately making pouring motions at Curtis, who just sneers in reply. 

‘C’mon, man, I just spent, like, a hundred quid on the cab over here.’ 

‘Why didn’t you get the free shuttle?’ 

Nathan looks baffled. 

‘The 66, every hour from the station? Stops about five feet away?’ Curtis offers, smirking. 

Nathan makes an ugly scowl, but clearly decides to stay silent, as Curtis relents, pushing a sloppy half across the bar. 

‘So, that’s the new guy? One of the gang?’ He makes inverted quotes with his fingers as he slurps his beer. 

‘Yeah. Seems nice enough. He’s been getting on Curtis’ tits.’ Simon’s lips quirk. 

Nathan grins. ‘Can’t be that bad, then. How’s the new power?’ 

‘I had a vision I fell off the roof,’ Simon offers in the serious tone he offers most information; even his pizza order. 

‘You wanna watch that one, it hurts like a bastard!’ Nathan winces, touching his own back in illustration of where the spikes went in. 

Kelly approaches, arms outstretched for a hug, which is swiftly curtailed when Nathan extends it to a quick grope. It’s a measure of how pleased she is to see him that the slap she doles out isn’t one of the permanently injurious variety; but Nathan’s easily wounded, judging by his prolonged whimpering. 

Alisha, bored, changes the subject: ‘How’s Marnie?’ 

‘Good, good, she’s talking to her parents again, went with her. Apparently they were so relieved the baby’s not mine, they offered to have her back on the spot. My mum was pissed off, though, she was hoping Marn’d make an honest man of me.’ 

Simon’s gaze drops, and Nathan changes the subject swiftly. 

‘My namesake’s well cute now, looks like a fat little turkey at Christmas!’

‘Never ‘fought I’d see Uncle Nathan.’ Kelly cackles. ‘You getting broody?’ 

Nathan shrugs, and Simon looks even more worried. Nathan nudges him. ‘Hey, I’m not immortal anymore, I gotta think about my legacy! It’d be a crying shame not to pass these genes on!’

Kelly’s brows crease. ‘Don’t,’ she offers succinctly, exchanging a glance with Simon, who offers a shy smirk in response. 

Nathan begins detailing implausible and frankly, disturbing potential reproductive plans and ways to overcome basic biology with the ‘power’ of endless shagging: ‘Unless one of you ladies feel like volunteering your services? Pretty sure Barry and I could take one for the team there, maybe even two if you felt like pairing up, hold each other’s hand through it…’ before receiving another well-deserved smack; and despite Curtis’ protestations that they’re all embarrassing him at work; it’s looking to be the start of a decent night, ‘til the older guy stumbles in an hour later. 

Curtis's eyes are first to flick up, they don’t get a ton of customers in here this early, and even less people his parents' age. 

He’s about to greet the guy when Nathan twists in his seat, catches the bloke’s eye, and as silently as Curtis has ever seen him do anything, pulls the stranger into the corner. 

It doesn’t take Simon endless guesses to realise who this is, when the man’s silvery hair is the same curly mess as Nathan’s, and he reeks of whiskey. 

He stays in his seat, but Alisha and Kelly’s chattering fades away as he concentrates on listening.

‘…had to take a call,’ the man slurs. 

‘Oh, perfect!’ Nathan gestures. ‘Nothing trivial, then! …Let me guess, your reception only works in the pub.’ 

‘It was Jamie’s mum.’ 

Yup. This is the infamous Mike Young, alright. 

‘S’been a year today, she…wanted to talk.’ 

‘And what pearls of wisdom did you have to share with her?’ Nathan manages, face paling. ‘Bet you learned loads from the two minutes you spent with us waiting for the coppers, really touching memories.’ 

'The best defense is a strong offense' is clearly the closest the Youngs have to a family credo, and at this, the man, Nathan’s dad, turns nasty. 

‘What, and you’re Mr. Committed? Your mum told me you were hanging around this slapper with a baby, god knows who the dad is; and now you’re bringing home some little prick with an arson record? You can’t even pick the gender you like, and you’re lecturing me? Fuck that.’ 

Nathan motions for his dad to be quiet. Simon’s stomach sinks. ‘Keep your voice down, alright! It’s not like that.’

Simon’s still, wishing that he were invisible again.

‘What, now you’re shy?’ Mike sniffs. 

‘S’even less likely than the boyfriend.’ 

He shifts, or rather, wobbles on his feet, pulls Nathan’s jacket sleeve. 

‘You tell him all your old horror stories about your mean old man and your mum’s dirty boyfriends? Looks the gullible type, bet he eats up that bullshit. Why don’t you tell him how often I got calls, how I never missed a fucking one? Nathan’s been shoplifting, Nathan’s got the shit kicked out of him, the doorman wants to press charges, the pub want their carpets cleaned…’ Mike lists in a sing-song tone. 

Nathan looks unimpressed. ‘Answering the phone once in a while, must have been a real killer, you should write a book’, he mutters, but his low tone indicates he’s embarrassed enough that he’s not going to argue the point.

Mike points a finger at Nathan’s lapel, tone a weird combination of nostalgic and self-pitying. 

‘Hey, remember that time the head called us in cos you were on your knees sucking that kid’s cock in the college toilets? There’s some fucking touching parental memories.’ He sways, continues thoughtfully ‘…Guess this Simon thing didn’t come out of nowhere.’ 

The volume in the bar has dropped considerably, Curtis and Alisha are looking away, awkwardly. Kelly’s biting her lip. Simon looks mortified. 

The only sound is Rudy’s delayed laugh, as he addresses the girls on his table. ‘I thought me and my dad were bad when we go at it! ‘Course he and me mum are still together, so it’s worse in some ways for me, walking in on them shagging and the like…’

Nathan pushes his way past Mike and out the exit. 

Mike hangs his head momentarily, before catching Curtis’ attention with a wave, not making eye contact. ‘Cab rank round here?’ he asks.

‘Up the high street, it’s a five minute walk,’ Curtis mutters.

‘I’d get on with it’, Kelly offers, voice calm but fists clenched tight. ‘Sooner the better.’ 

Mike narrows his eyes, but stumbles out. Simon waits, counting in his head. He doesn’t want to interrupt on the off chance Mike does pursue his son, neither does he particularly desire a one on one confrontation with the man; he doesn’t know what he’d do, and frankly, he doesn’t want to. 

After six minutes of quiet, he pays for his and Nathan’s drinks, nodding at the others, before beginning the slow walk home to the flat.

*

He’s surprised, with the head start and Nathan’s longer legs, he’d expected to find him leaving for a club, or at least trashing the place; but instead he’s smoking a joint relatively calmly, fiddling with the catch of the leather satchel he uses as a suitcase.

He even gets up to pour Simon a short. He passes it over, bumping shoulders, as they sit awkwardly on the bed. ‘Sorry, man. Put a bit of a downer on the evening.’

Simon stutters. He can tolerate anything from Nathan but quiet, it disarms him more than insults ever did. 

‘…What your dad said…’

‘He’s got a dozen more stories, don’t worry. Mum’s probably got a hundred.’ 

‘…It doesn’t matter.’

‘Hey, you already knew I wasn’t holding onto my cherry into middle age like you.’ 

Simon recoils back a few inches, stung, but he knows that’s what Nathan wants, so he doesn’t leave the bed, let alone the room, instead sips slowly at the drink as if it’s a beer. 

‘We’ve…all got a past.’

‘Wow, two shags with incredibly beautiful girls. You’re right, Barry, that’s definitely something to be embarrassed about. Worse than the tripling, they are, how’d you even hold your head up?’ 

Simon wonders briefly, curiously what the 'tripling' is, before dismissing it. He doesn’t really want to know any more stories about Nathan’s wild sex life, the stuff he’s witnessed has been weird enough. 

Prior to this evening, he’d have thought hearing about Nathan being with other boys would at least have assuaged his worries about Marnie. Kelly, even. 

About how he’s never even made a move on a woman who didn’t practically drag him into bed, who didn’t assure him of her feelings (however insincerely); and here he is, hanging around a boy with the attention span of a gnat, who’s only expression of his emotions is via the alternating mediums of insults and blowjobs. 

Now he’s wondering if this is just another way Nathan chooses to self-destruct, now he’s sold his old power. Maybe Simon’s the new gun to his temple; the new way to piss off his parents; to avoid finding a job, a flat, a girlfriend…something real. 

Simon’s misled himself about his own feelings before, been lied to, and lied in his turn; but of all the horrible things Nathan’s done, he hasn’t ever offered Simon anything but the unvarnished truth. 

Simon figures he owes Nathan the same.

‘You don’t think I wouldn’t have killed to have someone touch me? To touch someone?’ 

He shifts, trying to resist the urge to press his hand against his forehead, to smooth down his hair, to adjust his collar. To hide away. 

‘…The first boy I fancied, I tried to burn down his house. I’m not exactly the expert on healthy development here. All the time you spent getting drunk, fucking up, snogging…that’s normal. You’re supposed to make mistakes. I was so…afraid of everything. I never even kissed someone ‘til I was 19. And she was my probation worker.’

Nathan’s mouth twists upwards. ‘Aw, Barry, I’d have thrown you a pity fuck.’ 

Simon rolls his eyes. ‘You’d have bullied me. Mercilessly.’

‘No way!’ Nathan offers, all mock sincerity, straddling Simon’s hips. He leans in, breathes at Simon’s neck briefly. 

‘Well…maybe. But I’d have felt bad about it after. Might even have made up for it, given you a little wank in the IT room, some early community service.’ 

‘Fuck off’, Simon murmurs, but he still doesn’t move, even cracks a little smile. 

Nathan likes a reaction, and figures even a restrained one deserves encouragement. ‘I’d have been all over you,’ he murmurs, kissing Simon’s neck, working his hand up Simon’s thigh. 

‘’S’ sexy. You’d be like one of them geeks in the films, all buttoned up. Never been kissed…’ 

‘It really wasn’t sexy. I was spotty, and short, and…and...don’t make me get out the photo albums’, Simon manages, panting a little, struggling to finish his thought, as Nathan unzips his fly.

‘Show me yours, I’ll show you mine’, Nathan offers. ‘Used to straighten my hair out, sleeveless vests, the whole boy band look. Made our jumpsuits look dead classy,’ he describes, as incongruously, he starts stroking Simon’s cock at the same time. 

Fashion mistakes and embarrassing sex failures; it’s the least cool, and probably the most gay topic Simon can imagine, but somehow he feels better than he did after Alisha, her naked body gloriously perfect, and her expectations so unattainably high. Even after Jessica, virginal and shy, and so like him it hurt to look at her. 

*

In the morning, he wakes to see Nathan, on the phone over near the lift, poking with one hand at the lattice, and looking so serious that Simon’s sure that this is it. 

That the call was from Marnie, that last night was an ego massage before the dumping, the ‘it’s not me, it’s you’, knowing Nathan.

‘Dad.’ Nathan offers, chucking the phone down on the duvet, and sitting next to Simon, who pulls up the duvet protectively. He pats Nathan’s arm awkwardly, waiting. 

Rung and apologised, full of regret? It seems unlikely, if he’s anything like his son. Rung and told Nathan to stop this pretence, this attention-seeking? Perhaps. 

‘He…wants to take a trip.’ 

Simon raises his eyebrows. That was…possibly the last thing he expected. 

‘Offaly. Jamie’s mum lives there. He…he wants me to go with him. Just a couple of months. Says work can give him a sabbatical. S’not exactly sun and sand, but there’s room service and a casino to practise this new power on…’ Nathan trails off. ‘It’s only an hour from Dublin, I could…pop back, weekends and birthdays and shit.’ 

Simon doesn’t know what to say, what this is supposed to mean. 

Nathan stays in the flat with him, but he was homeless before, so it’s hardly a testament to his commitment to the relationship. 

He doesn’t even know if they’re officially together – their friends know, sure, but Nathan wouldn’t have been able to keep a secret if he tried, it’s not as if they announced it or anything. He’s met Nathan’s mum, but he’s not even sure if she knows that they’re dating; she just patted him on the arm and smiled at him a lot. 

‘I still wanna…look, I broke you in now, don’t go…getting all cock hungry or anything without me.’

Simon jaw drops, and after a second, he laughs drily. ‘They say romance is dead…’

‘I just mean…Offaly’s all cows and inbreds, I’m not gonna be getting laid there, I don’t want any curly haired mutants with six fingers running around. But dad’s picking up the tab, and I reckon in two months, I could probably get at least ten years worth of birthday presents out of him, the bar bill alone… M’not proposing or anything, but we can Skype and shit, send me dick pics...’ Simon gives Nathan a silent, sceptical look. ‘Alright, fine, I’ll send you dick pics, whatever. Just…don’t go picking up any more of your inexplicably hot lady friends, alright?’ 

‘I think we’re a little past the gay panic stage,’ Simon says wryly, but he can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.

*

‘So…another night of sexual confusion with you lot, eh?’ Rudy prods later, as Curtis pulls on his old jumpsuit, glaring. Six more fucking weeks!

‘There ain’t no sexual confusion,’ Curtis grits. ‘Least not for me.’

‘Not for me either, mate, I’m perfectly comfortable with my priors, nothing wrong with a bit of anal give-and-take with the right one or ten girls.’ He makes a crucifix gesture on his chest. ‘May she rest in peace and all that.’

‘And your other ‘priors’?’ At Rudy’s confused look, Curtis impatiently waves his hand in front of Rudy’s face. ‘Alisha? That big thing about her being your first? S’gonna get awkward if you’re spending the next six weeks slagging her off.’ 

Rudy touches his stomach, and for a second, Curtis thinks the other one; the sadder, if no less annoying one, is gonna appear; but instead, Rudy pastes on a toothy grin. ‘No way, man, never go back on a shag, it’s like a dog going back to it’s own vomit.’

Curtis sneers. ‘Classy.’

‘She’s a lovely girl, don’t get me wrong. But there’s plenty more fish in the sea, and I intend to fuck them all, good sir. 

...Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against benders! Just leaves more for the rest of us. That starey bloke seems sweet; his fella’s no Richard Saunders, but I guess all that hair makes sense now.' Rudy mimes holding onto curls while receiving a blowjob, and Curtis sighs, as Alisha, Kelly and Simon file into the room. 

One prick down, two more to replace him.


	2. episode 2

Curtis gets on okay with Rudy, don’t get him wrong. 

He likes to think of himself as tolerant, anyone who could hang around Nathan Young for months without bruising knuckles daily has a zen-like calm, if he does say so himself. And he doesn’t mind girls taking the piss, never held it against Alisha when she chucked him for some bullshit reasons, even when she fucked him, fucked with his head. 

But everything just feels…wrong at the moment, and he can’t help but blame Rudy for it; after the party.

It used to be he was never single, had gorgeous girls fighting over him, even after the ban. But thinking about girls at all for a while there panged, after…well, after Christmas. 

He’s trying to get back on the horse now, slow and steady; and there’s a cheeky glint in Emma’s eye as she hurls insults at him that reminds him of (her) his last girlfriend, but then she tells Melissa all about how awkward their shag was; and he wonders if he’s lost it. Or worse, if he never had it.

He asks Alisha, but she’s acting weird again, like she was when she was getting ready to dump him.

For a second he wonders whether her and Simon are at it again; but the stuff she says about fucking when he presses doesn’t sound like Simon. Instead, she’s…well, not shy, Alisha ain’t capable of that, but stepping around sex in a way he’s never heard from her. 

He wonders if she’s seeing someone secretly. It’s odd, cause when they were dating, they never had much to say to each other after a certain point; but since working in the bar together, her and Simon and him and Nikki falling apart, and they’re sort of…friends. Like him and Kel, only Alisha hits less.

If she’s getting some, she’ll tell him when she wants, he figures, but besides her unenthused reaction when he asks her how he compares (especially since she’s been with all three of them), she’s not giving much away. Just rambles a little dreamily about how sex is better when the person knows what you like. She nips off sharpish after to gossip with Kelly, and he hears giggles and the word ‘ego’ before his pride forces him to make an exit. 

Instead, of all people, he decides to chat to Simon about it after the bloke catches him in the locker room. 

They were never close. To be honest, Simon’s always given him the creeps, a little. 

He feels mean thinking it, knowing how lonely the guy was, how desperate he was for them all to be mates; but when he thinks about going out for beers or something, he just sees Simon’s eyes all huge, like that time in the locker room after Alisha and he…did whatever they did. Simon grinning like a Cheshire cat, watching the whole time and doing nothing to stop it… 

Well, it doesn’t particularly warm him to the idea, is the thing. Neither did Christmas. 

But he’s got no one else to talk to about his new power, and Simon at least must know what it’s like to hook up with someone with the same stuff going on downstairs, how weird it is when you’re used to cock-meets-cunt. (Even if Simon does have apparently the worst taste in boyfriends, like, ever.)

However, what Simon lacks in taste, he apparently makes up for in listening skills. Curtis feels like he’s in therapy, leg stretched over the sofa. Simon bolt upright on an armchair, like he’s gonna be tested on details afterwards. 

Curtis isn’t sure anyone’s ever paid this much attention to anything he’s said in his life, not even reporters. 

It’s pretty standard for Simon’s interactions with others from what he’s seen, and he’s not egomaniacal enough to enjoy it like Nathan probably does; but after the fuck-up with Emma, it’s like cool water after a sweaty run; relief. 

He’d expected Simon to get all awkward about the sex stuff, but he guesses Nathan’s probably beaten down his shame impulses pretty swiftly. Instead Simon just asks questions. ‘Are you a lesbian?’ he wants to know, voice calm and non-judgemental. ‘Or…is she, I suppose I should say?’ 

Curtis wets his lips. ‘…Dunno.’ He offers. ‘I just feel…different, when I’m her. Like me, but…I dunno. It’s easier in some ways. I could just chat to her, didn’t feel like I had to show off my trophies or whatever. And she was different, talking to…I dunno, talking to another girl, I guess. Wasn’t doing that thing they do, like they look at you and you know they’re wondering ‘Is he a perv?’ and you’re trying to show ‘em you’re alright, but also that you’re not a pussy, and it’s just…tiring, innit.’ 

‘I suppose they think differently to us. Girls.’ Simon pauses. ‘Well…they have to.’ His expression darkens a little. 

Curtis ain’t sure why, as far as he knows, Simon’s only been with a couple of girls, and spent his adolescence a lonely virgin. Can’t imagine that leaves him much to feel shit about. But he’s dropped his eyes, and yeah, there it is. Guilt. Huh. S’interesting. 

Seeing it gives him the balls to spit out something he’s been kicking around a while. ‘Don’t tell anyone about my power, alright? I’m still…figuring it out.’ He pauses. ‘Not even Nathan.’

Simon smiles, affectionate. ‘Definitely not. He’d enjoy it way too much.’ 

It should be endearing, that happy reaction, even if it is connected with the biggest prick Curtis ever met; but instead it pisses him off more, still thinking about Christmas. ‘Yeah, well…you owe me,’ he mutters.

Simon furrows his brow, looking immediately nervous, the kicked dog again; and Curtis almost drops the whole thing, but the mention of Nathan just makes him angrier. 

If he were here, he’d be irritating Curtis, some new thing every day, and Curtis’d be able to ignore the big thing; but Nathan's absence and Simon’s moony grin just reminds him of who else isn’t there. 

Simon looks confused. ‘W-what for?’ he asks.

Curtis blows air through his lips, looking away, up at the sky. ‘Christmas?’ he asks, like it’s a question. ‘Nikki.’ 

He’s not said her name much since it happened. She didn’t have much family to ask after her, and the others haven’t pressed him on it. Kelly tried a couple of times, but he just ignored her until she gave up. There was enough going on, a body in the community centre, a birth, whatever drama Simon and Alisha were apparently going through, the new powers. It was easier to just…not talk about it. 

‘We did everything we could, Seth sold the power-’

‘Yeah. Seth’s a prick, what else is new? But in the bar, with the gun… That bloke, he wasn’t aiming for her, she was in the loo. She was safe. If Nathan ain’t ducked…’

‘He didn’t have his power, the bullet would have hit him.’

‘Yeah.’ 

Simon blanches a little, and Curtis feels shit. 

‘Don’t get me wrong. There ain’t a happy ending. I don’t want anyone gone. And she wouldn’t have, neither. Not even him.’ 

His lips quirk a little. 

‘But you warned him. Saved him. Just…pisses me off. I was always the fastest out of us lot, and I was too fucking late to even tell her to hide. Coulda…shielded her. Something.’ 

To his horror, his voice cracks a little at that last, and he blinks furiously.

He’s come to love these wankers in his own way, all of them, but sobbing it out has never been his style, and he doesn’t plan to change that now, around Simon of all people. He brushes invisible dust off his jumpsuit, and leaps up. 

‘Catch ya later, man’, he throws off, and when Simon creeps into the hall a few minutes later, Curtis is shooting the shit with Rudy like there’s nothing wrong. 

They’re having a laugh then, and it’s a laugh with Emma, short as it is. Minus the whole period thing, not to mention getting called a slag and slapped by half the room, Kelly bellowing: ‘Um, why are you hitting on my best mate’s bloke? He’s not even into girls, right, so back off!’ 

He’d hold a grudge, but after the insight he’s had into the shit girls put up with; he thinks he’s probably due a slap or two. 

But after the thing with Mark, he’s not feeling it when Rudy comes up behind him, hands on his shoulders: ‘Have you been using them powers again? ‘Cause you smell a lot like toffee apples, and it’s going straight to me cock, I won’t lie.’ 

‘Fuck off’, Curtis says shortly. 

‘Aw, come on, don’t be like that!’ Rudy moans. ‘I thought I could tag along to the track, that runner bird was gorgeous, and god knows the smoking and speed aren’t doing me any favours. Think I broke a sweat just catching the ice-cream van the other day, it’s not good, and me only twenty-five.’ 

‘For real?’ Curtis asks, surprised, briefly forgetting his impatience.

‘Fuck off! I’ve got a mature aspect, you’re just…jealous, it’s all the wisdom in my pores leaking out…’ 

Curtis cracks a smile. Just a small one, mind. ‘Just…don’t keep grabbing me, alright?’

At that Rudy looks genuinely injured, and Curtis feels a pang of guilt, before remembering the ‘pussy’ comment, earlier. ‘Look…that thing at the party. It got weird.’

‘Are you still on about this?’ Rudy asks, looking confused. ‘I thought we sorted all of that! I didn’t know you weren’t up for it. I’m a catch, you know, gotta beat ‘em off with a shitty stick, and you were begging for it, thought I was doing you a favour.’ 

Something about that word catches Curtis’ temper like flint, or maybe it’s Rudy’s annoyed expression as he turns to look over the rooftop, reminding him of Alisha when they met, her little upturned nose and pout, like a spoilt kid, as she spat out: ‘You should be grateful!’ 

‘Emma was right, I must be a fucking masochist’, he mutters, turning away. 

Rudy winces, twists round. ‘Look, I’m sorry, alright? I swear, I won’t even look at you when you’re her.’

‘Ain’t about just me, though, is it?’ 

‘Fucking hell, next thing you’ll be saying I can’t shag any pissed girls at all!’ 

At Curtis’ face, Rudy’s grin drops. 

‘Are you serious? Oh, you have got no romance in your soul, mate! Nothing nicer than splitting a bottle and having a nice, sleepy fuck.’

Curtis’ expression doesn’t change, to Rudy’s increasing horror. ‘You are winding me up. Look, if you’re insisting on all this new man bollocks, the least you can do is show me that lovely pussy once in a while. It’s only fair!’ 

Curtis shakes his head. ‘Nah,’ he says shortly, but Rudy Wade didn’t fuck 82 women over the past 7 years by giving up easily (not to mention, okay, the 14 or so blokes up for it on various occasions, when, for whatever reason - nostalgia for Scouts was probably as good a term for it as any - he felt in the mood enough to have a go.) Or for that matter, by having strict standards over minor matters like gender and level of consciousness. 

As they turn the corner into the locker-room, he continues to bargain. Curtis might be a tough sell, but there was something in his little smirk earlier when the others teased him, that promises he might not be quite the downer he pretends to be.


	3. episode 3

It’s Nathan’s first visit since they got community service, although he’s rubbed it in so long over texts, emails and Skype that it doesn’t feel like he’s been gone; they’re all (apart from an unmoved Curtis, who put him on block ages ago) so sick of his gleeful crowing about them getting six more weeks of the same old shit; literally hours after he left.

Simon hadn’t planned moonlight or roses. From what Nathan’s said, the most romantic thing he could do to is order a takeaway and get ready for a weekend in bed. 

(The way Nathan put it wasn’t quite so subtle, but he censors for his own sake, and Kelly’s when relaying to her, thankful she doesn’t have her old power.) 

Instead, Nathan, with his customary poor timing, has picked his arrival to coincide with Simon getting his hand stamped on by a mugger, and is now sulking in the kitchen area.

‘I thought you’d quit all that comic book shit,’ Nathan says shortly, passing over an icepack, wrapped in the best tea towel. 

Simon doesn’t point it out, just nods in gratitude, taking it with his good hand. ‘I couldn’t just do nothing, the guy was mugging this boy. He could have had a knife, you know what it’s like round here.’

‘Course I do, there were plenty of psychos hanging around last year, but at least then I was immortal! What the fuck were you gonna do if the guy stabbed you? Guess which card he’d pick from a deck?’

‘I’m not completely helpless, you know.’ Simon offers, stiffly. ‘I have the suit, I had the drop on the guy, and I've been training. What was the point of last year, of all that…death, if we don’t at least try and help people? I thought that’s why we bought these new powers.’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, fuck knows I don’t have a degree in Star Trek, or whatever the fuck it is that makes all this shit sound normal to you, but I thought that hoodie crap was about how you and Alisha are destined for…I dunno, poetry, and flowers, and loads of ickle babies.’ Nathan waves his hand in illustration. 

‘Is this a very elaborate dumping? 'Cause you really could have saved me the air fare beforehand.’

Simon softens. The excitement of putting on the suit, of making a difference…it’s hard to get across to Nathan. 

He imagines his other self had the same struggle with Alisha, they’re alike in a lot of ways, although he wouldn’t dare voice it to either of them. 

But thinking about last year, about Nikki. About Jamie, and Ollie, all the others in the wrong place at the wrong time, stuck with useless powers or no powers at all… 

About finding Alisha in the flat he now calls home, the lamp from his old room on the bedside table, the butterflies he framed at ten on the walls; so familiar, and yet unexpected that he staggers a little to sit, clutching his head, as she tearfully explains who the guy in the mask was. 

About her, alone and crying for help, a gun aimed at her chest. 

Curtis, choking, gasping for air, bleeding in the dark. 

Nathan, starving underground; running towards a burning car like he runs towards trouble all his life. 

He doesn’t know how much of it was caused by his other self, how many paradoxes were broken or formed by his actions, by introducing Curtis to Nikki, by touching Alisha, by not intervening when he had the chance, and by speaking out when he should have perhaps stayed silent. 

He does know, though, that he can’t feel resentment to the other self, however misguided some of the choices he made may have been; can’t feel anything but hopeless gratitude that they’re all here, still safe. 

He couldn’t live up to the other self, couldn’t be what he was, or want what he had; and maybe that’s the difference between them, between the superhero and Simon, the geek, who still can’t bring himself to inhale a joint, despite Nathan’s giggly teasing; who still pauses a little before he swears, even at Rudy, who’s pretty much a walking expletive. 

But if the cost for keeping them safe a little longer, in his own, small way is the occasional bruise or cut, he considers it one he’d pay happily. 

It’s ironic that Nathan, who so cheerfully faced his own (im)mortality is unnerved at this tiny price, but then, he was never particularly calm about blood or danger, was first to gag or cringe at the inevitable horrors that followed them since the storm. 

Simon pats at the wound, satisfied the bleeding’s stopped for now, and goes to methodically rinse out the towel. His back to Nathan, it’s easier to get across a little of what he’s thinking. 

‘I don’t…want all that. It’s in the past.’ 

He smiles, can’t help it. ‘Literally.’ 

Nathan groans, but he can’t repress an affectionate grin. ‘Geek.’

‘It just... It felt good. To help.’

Nathan rolls his eyes, but maybe he’s thinking about last year himself, the past, about what he’d change if he could. 

He lets the point drop, at any rate, switches to his favourite topic so fluidly it’s only a slight shadow in his eyes that convinces Simon it wasn’t on his mind the whole time. 

‘…So, this boy you saved, is he as gorgeous as me?’ 

Simon smirks. ‘You never fail to amaze me with the size of your ego.’

‘You misspoke there, Barry, think you meant to say ‘cock’.’ Nathan rolls on his back lazily, pulling up his t-shirt to flash his flat stomach. 

Two can play that game, thinks Simon, unbuttoning his shirt a little. Nathan reaches out to stroke his hard-won abs like they’re magnetized, giving Simon’s ego a boost. And yes, alright…his cock, too. 

‘You’re jealous’, Simon murmurs, low.

‘Well, yeah, little bit, maybe. Supposed to be saving the big strong hero sweeping to the rescue bit for me, arencha? Bet you didn’t shove this guy off yer bike…’ Nathan mumbles, but as Simon fumbles to unzip his fly one-handed, he loses his train of thought pretty swiftly.

*

‘What’s with the beard? You look like a twat’, Kelly says, deadpan, as Nathan protests loudly. 

‘It makes me look distinguished, like!’

‘Like a classy twat, then?’ Rudy suggests. ‘Dame Maggie Smith’s twat, like she don’t need to worry about waxing no more, cause she’s a Lady whatever she does.’

Curtis and Simon catch each other’s eyes and exchange small shrugs at this exchange, but it’s a warm day, and no one can bothered to interrupt the auto-witter. Even in defence of Dame Maggie Smith’s honour.

‘Whatever man, I better fuck off before the probation worker catches me and signs me up with you fuckers again.' Nathan stands, bumping hips with Kelly, before pecking Simon’s cheek briefly. ‘See you at four.’ He wanders off to do god knows what with his day, trumpeting: ‘I am not a number, I am a FREE MAN!’ as he goes.

‘The Prisoner’, Simon offers in explanation at Alisha’s baffled face. ‘We were watching the boxset.’

‘I didn’t ask’, she says, but she’s smirking. ‘Believe me, I’m happier not knowing.’ 

Shaun stomps in moments later to introduce the candidates they’re supposed to be inspiring to avoid their sorry example, when the boy from the mugging awkwardly enters. 

Something about the way he’s clutching his bag (like a laptop case, but wider. Maybe an art holdall?) gives Simon a familiar pang, and as the boy nervously explains why he’s here, the feeling only grows. 

Alisha sniggers, Curtis and Kelly look bored, and Rudy’s not even listening, but Simon’s heart feels like it’s been squeezed, and he can’t help but reach out a little, try and reassure him, especially after the boy recognises him. 

‘It won’t be like this forever’, he offers shyly, with a small smile. ‘You’ll meet…someone, someone who likes you. Without having to save them.’

‘I just thought…if I could get her to notice me, maybe…’ Peter trails off. 

‘Maybe just try…talking to her. See what you have in common. If you trick her into liking you, you’re not giving her a chance. Or you.’

‘I don’t know what she likes. I was only in the bar to meet her, it’s…not really my thing’, Peter says, despondently, and Simon’s reminded of his nervous conversations with Alisha. Him looking at her CD collection, unable to repress a wince at some of the choices. 

Her polite confusion as he played her his favourite iPod tracks, showed her his favourite films, watching her struggle to think of something to say in response. 

Of trying to make conversation, wanting her desperately, her soft lips, the smell of her perfume, the curves of her breasts. Unable to think of anything anyone so beautiful could ever share with him. 

‘What _is_ your thing?’ Simon asks, unable to stop himself, his mother always told him to ask questions as a conversation starter, and even now, when he really should just leave, it’s an instinct.

‘Comics’, Peter says, a smile spreading across his face. 

‘Marvel or DC?’ Simon parries, and now they’re both grinning.

*

‘How was restorative justice?’ Nathan yawns. ‘Reach any troubled youths?’ He hums the tune from Dangerous Minds idly, but Simon’s playing spoil sport, just does the stare-y face. ‘Wanna cuppa?’ He swings his legs off the bed and wanders over to the kettle.

‘I need to leave.’ Simon says, flatly.

‘You forget something? I told you, Barry, you can’t store panties in the lockers there, it’s the first place they’ll look!’ Nathan snickers to himself. ‘But seriously, c’mon then, I’ll walk you.’

Instead, Simon shakes his head, turning away, not his usual short, quiet steps but pacing. ‘This thing, with us. It’s…not right. I need to be alone. It’s my destiny.’

Nathan double takes, and following the habit of a lifetime, says the first thing to pop into his head: ‘But…it’s your flat!’

Simon just shakes his head. ‘This is what’s best for both of us. You can stay here 'til your flight date, of course.’ He squares his shoulders, pressing the lift button; as Nathan stares, gobsmacked, at his departing shadow.

*

‘I thought you two were well loved up’, Curtis offers, not really sure what to say. 

Alisha looks a little nervous, too, neutrally asking: ‘Yeah, where did that come from?’ 

‘Maybe he turned back to girls?’ Rudy offers.

Nathan and he normally get on, or at least Rudy One and Nathan (the combination of both Rudys and Nathan has so far proved itself to be challenging, resulting as it does in migraines for the group at large); but Nathan gives him the V-sign for that one. 

The absence of accompanying verbal insults indicates he’s not up for a fight, though, and that worries Kelly enough to pat his elbow.

Rudy waves his hands. ‘Honest, I’m just trying to help! Now that I think ‘bout it, though, there were a young bloke in today. They were having a piss together. S’tough for me to tell, being such a pussy man’, at that, Curtis sneers, and Kelly administers a dead-arm that has Rudy howl: ‘Fuck! That’ll leave a mark. Anyway, it did sort of look like they were checking each other out. Cock-wise, I mean. Maybe he’s playing the field?’

‘Simon wouldn’t do that.’ Kelly says shortly, knocking Nathan on the shoulder. 

‘He’s a bloke.’ Alisha says, quietly. 

‘Just cos he finished with you…’ Nathan sniffs, and Curtis interrupts before it kicks off. 

Sometimes he thinks they’ve been mates too long, there’s so much history there; him and Alisha, Kelly and Nathan, the thing with Rudy at the party… Adding in Simon’s apparent adventures through time just complicates it all further. 

Right now, it’s giving him chronic second-hand embarrassment, as Nathan and Alisha bicker. 

‘You’re not exactly choosy!’ Nathan begins scornfully.

‘You’re so sentimental! Look, this is Simon, the guy hid a body in a freezer without us knowing, and after a few fucks, you think he can’t surprise you? I’m just saying…still waters run deep, you know. Believe me, he and I are well over.’ 

For some reason, she catches Kelly’s eye, but apparently whatever’s fucking with Simon’s head is affecting Kelly, as she looks pissed off too for some reason, and turns away, scowling. 

‘But…you’re the first bloke he’s been with, maybe he just wants to…see what else is out there.’

Nathan looks stung, and while Alisha’s not one to baby him like Kelly, she feels sympathetic enough to offer to use her power. 

‘They’re in the flat, him and that weird kid. Looking at…magazines?’

Nathan winces.

‘Not like that, you pervert! Like…comic books. Talking about…Iceman? Northstar? I dunno, superhero shit.’ 

Kelly pulls Nathan’s arm. ‘C’mon. Come stay at mine, I’ll make ya chicken nuggets’, she offers, and they trail off. 

Curtis, Alisha and Rudy look at each other, a little glum despite themselves. 

Alisha doesn’t really think there’s much to Rudy’s theories about the kid at community service, and she’s certainly never been convinced that anyone could make it work long-term with Nathan Young; but the knock-on effect of the others moods is getting to her, despite herself. 

‘Looks like it’s just us three,’ Rudy begins in a crooning tone, ‘Maybe we should have a little sleepover of our own-’

‘No’, Curtis and Alisha chorus in swift unison, and head for the pub, Rudy ambling behind them.

*

Kelly insists she doesn’t need walking to community service in the morning, and they’re both hungover enough that Nathan almost agrees, but on the off-chance that Simon turns up today, he tags along, hanging around the entrance. Kelly smokes with him, passes him her earbuds, until five to nine, when she makes a regretful face and heads in. 

He’s about to start back to hers, when he spots Simon walking in with a boy. He’s not met the fucker, has only Kel’s description to go on, but the twitchy expression and bulging bag make it clear that this is the famous Peter. Nathan approaches swiftly. 

He’s tried a little to knock the arguments on the head the last few months, doesn’t want to turn into his dad; and when something really cunt-y bubbles up in his throat, he thinks purposefully about Kelly, sitting with his body, waiting for him to wake up that first time. Her sad, low voice, how he wanted her to stay, and about what she said: ‘It’s the stuff you say…It’s who you are.’ 

About Simon’s fearful face those first few weeks at community service, how he’d almost cringe at the grin spreading across Nathan’s face, waiting for a punchline, like a dog expecting a kick. 

But self-control has never been his strong point, and words are rising so quickly, he can barely spit them out fast enough. 

‘So this is the younger model?’ Nathan looks down at Peter from the six inches or so he has on him. ‘I was picturing some little baby twink, but fuck…you don’t look old enough to get served. Guess I wasn’t far off on the paedo jokes, eh, Barry?’ 

Simon doesn’t react, doesn’t look hurt or angry or starey. If anything, he reminds Nathan of the time in the bathroom, when the creepy mouse-girl was pretending to be him, eyes black and flat.

‘What do you two do together, lick windows? Hold hands and watch 'Spiderman'? Don’t think you’ll need to worry about this one making you feel all inadequate about how many cocks he’s sucked, hey, so there’s a bright side. Really. Couldn’t be happier for ya.’ 

Nathan expects Barry to bite back at that, at least, but he just stands stock still, like a soldier. 

Instead it’s Peter who speaks up.

‘It’s not like that. Being a superhero and having a…partner. They don’t mix. It just…creates a distraction. There’ll always be something he cares about more than the mission, and you’ll always be at risk from his enemies. He told me about Alisha, how she fell in love with his other self because he died. I’m doing you a favour, saving you all that pain.’ 

Nathan doesn’t know what to say to that, he just breathes: ‘...You weird little psycho.’ 

He’d like to say he’s taking the highroad and dealing with this break-up with dignity, but who’d he be kidding? Instead, he snatches Peter’s bag, ready to chuck it up the nearest tree, like they’re in primary school all over again; when out fall the creepiest stash of drawings he’s ever seen (and that includes all the anime Simon thinks he doesn’t know about.) 

*

Nathan’s a bit worried, the drawings are all ripped, he and Rudy even wiped their arses on a few; but Simon’s nowhere around. 

Nathan heads back to the flat, and rather than what he expected, Barry kicking arse in his own serious way, or even the odd kid Peter still hanging about; he finds Barry at the counter-top, clutching an out-of-focus Polaroid he’s not seen before. It looks like a shot of a cemetery, there’s a big, ornate gold cross in the background, among some trees. 

He’s not a big drinker, Barry, and there’s no bottle nearby, so it’s not ‘til he speaks and Nathan hears the slurry, emotional tone that he realises he’s pissed. He’s always trying to get the twat to loosen up, let his hair down, but he’s actually a bit unnerved, the way he is when Simon’s intense moods strike. Doesn’t like the idea of him sitting here alone, stewing and stewed, or how desperate he sounds, begging: ‘please don’t say no, please’, over and over. 

Nathan’s crap at all that emotional shit, feelings and the like, but he remembers how he felt after his dad’s charming introduction to Simon; the morning after Jamie, Kelly squeezing his shoulder, and instead of babbling back, or getting on his knees for his second favourite way to communicate, he just pulls Simon onto the bed, kisses his forehead gently like he would when Marn’s little man kicks off, and lets him be. 

Waits it out, nodding at Simon’s muttered apologies, at his clutching hands as he mumbles ‘look at you, what was I thinking?’, and eventually, stroking his arm over and over, as Simon passes out. 

*

When Simon wakes, he’s full of neurosis, doom and gloom, but it’s so familiar that Nathan just beams. 

Barry frets, pacing, chattering about concepts that lost Nathan a while back, casuality and destiny, and 'what if he draws this', 'what if he hurts us?' 

Nathan’s never understood the whole time-travel bit in the first place, to be honest. He can just about follow Terminator, but really, the whole John Connor paradox as Simon patiently tries to explain it, is pretty much a load of wank as far as he’s concerned. 

He wants the weirdo gone, and the way he sees it, they can either kill him (Pluses: why break the habit of a lifetime? Minuses: the whole murder thing really doesn’t aid his beauty sleep) or not. 

There must be something the kid wants enough to fuck off, and it’s while Nathan’s idly considering what he’d have guessed Barry would have been after at that age – a go on a pro? Trolley dash in Forbidden Planet? that he wonders out loud: ‘What about the suit?’ 

‘What?’ asks Barry, distracted, finally.

‘Your Bat-suit. All the Kevlar and wee little pockets and shit. This little freak wants in on being a hero. Why not let him?’

Simon stops momentarily. ‘Because – because it just wouldn’t work. I don’t understand it all, how he…how I went back in the first place. Why. How he knew what would happen, and when. All those clocks he had up, files on his computer, photos from stuff that never happened. He had this place, he learnt how to…climb. I don’t think even I could do all that yet, I can’t just…hand over the suit, he’d have to learn it all.’

‘Why?’ Nathan says, so simply that Simon’s caught for words. 

He’s been fixating on his future self since before he found out who he was, obsessing over the tiniest details (His hands are visible, he's white. He bleeds, he must be human. He spoke to Alisha and Nathan, he’s not mute.) that he doesn’t know why anymore, really. 

To save them all, yes. 

But Alisha and him were supposed to be destiny, and instead they fizzled out, not with a bang of a gunshot but the whimper of three months stilted conversations. Of seeing the disappointed look on her face and her sweet voice pleading ‘It doesn’t matter!’ after their first time. 

Of trying to overcome the urge to cringe when she reached out to touch him, the fear of 

_(what did I say? what did I do? did I make her? or did she make me?)_

Well. Of intimacy, he supposes. 

It was easier with Nathan, somehow, he bullied his way past Simon’s boundaries, teased him into relaxing instead of twitching at contact. He’d roll his eyes and laugh, and only later realise that he’d forgotten to feel nervous, so focused he was on what a twat the other boy was being. 

If he and Alisha couldn’t last, if the other him truly was from a different past, or future; maybe Nathan’s right. Maybe it doesn’t matter who wears the mask now. 

Maybe it never did.

‘Look, man, I don’t pretend to get this. But you said, the guy in the mask had pics of stuff that hadn’t happened. Stuff Curtis stopped, or whatever. So he can’t do all this future shit, cause not all those futures happened. We are where we are. Give the kid the suit, let him stay out of trouble playing dress up til he gets bored. Maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen this time around. Maybe all the other stuff is just…what could have been.’ 

Nathan pauses, all this heavy talk is too much for him, and he widens his eyes comically. ‘Might even be a future where you’re better looking than me!’ 

Simon shoves him, worried expression quirking into an unwilling smirk. ‘Maybe there’s one where you’ve got a really big cock?’, he offers innocently.

‘Barry!’ Nathan says, as outraged as if the vicar had sworn during sermon; and shoves him onto the bed, and serious talk is adjourned for a short recess.


	4. episode 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the standard warnings for an episode set in an alternate Nazi timeline apply.

_(Alternate Britain)_

BAR.

‘You said help yourself’, gasps Rudy, as he wanks Curtis. 

‘Fucking idiot’, Curtis manages, breathing in little pants, boosting Rudy’s smug sense of pride. ‘You know if they catch us, that’s it? Your prick ain’t worth the death penalty.’ 

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend, cos I – happen to be – part of the resistance!’ Rudy finishes, dramatically, wiping come all over Curtis' vest. 

Curtis just sighs and reaches across Rudy for his fags. If the end’s coming, it better be soon. 

*

COMMUNITY CENTRE.

Alisha’s typing away, Shaun leering away like always, aftershave too strong and meaty hands too close, patting her shoulders, pinching her bum, cracking his knuckles. 

Right now he’s taking the piss out of her filing to one of the conscripts. A pale boy, who looks shaken. She probably shouldn’t feel sorry for one of the troops, they can be mean bastards, but it’s not like she wanted to be here either, so who’s to say? This boy doesn’t look any older than her. At any rate, she winks at Shaun, asks him sweetly if she can go powder her nose, and checks out the rooftop break area.

‘I just…stood there. Did nothing,’ he says, over and over. 

She’d give him a cigarette, or a nip of vodka, but they’re both in short supply, and god knows with her record, the last thing she needs is more trouble. Instead she pats his back tentatively. She’s not a big toucher, Shaun’s the jealous type, and even holding Chloe’s hand on a rare night out has gotten her little comments the next morning from higher-ups about decorous behaviour. 

‘I was conscripted. But…I mean, I didn’t…it felt good. To be part of a group. I thought I could be useful, that I could…do what had to be done. But they didn’t have to do that, the girl didn’t do anything, she didn’t ask for that power, she wasn't hurting anyone…’ 

‘You did what you had to’, Alisha says, slowly. ‘It’s just about surviving.’

That's when the girl in orange enters, clutching a gun. Alisha blanches, but instead, the girl aims it at the sky swiftly, other hand held up in a peaceful gesture. 

‘Alisha?’ she asks. ‘Simon?’

‘How do you know our names?’ the boy – Simon, apparently – asks quickly.

‘It does say Bellamy all over your pocket, mate, weren’t hard,’ the girl answers.

‘Oh,’ Simon says, looking down at it like he’s never seen it before. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’

‘It’s me’, the girl says, like she’s waiting for something. ‘…Kelly?’

Simon and Alisha exchange glances, still lost. 

Kelly sighs, puffing out her lip to make her hair blow upwards. ‘You’re really gonna make me do this, arencha? Alright…’ She shifts her posture, stands a little taller, like an actress from a propaganda show. ‘I’m from another time.’

Simon’s eyes boggle, and Alisha can’t help but giggle.

‘See, now I feel like a twat!’

The girl has cigarettes in her pocket, and they share them like naughty schoolchildren, Simon choking at first, desperately trying to hide it. 

‘We was all mates. You two, me, Rudy…Curtis.’

Alisha quirks a brow. ‘Who are they?’

‘They should be here! They were on service with us. Curtis is tall, black…used to be a runner.’

‘If he’s black, he…might not have been chosen for conscription’, Simon says, awkwardly.

Alisha rolls her eyes. ‘Um, it’s not exactly a shock that the government’s fucked, you don’t need to step around my feelings. Believe me, I noticed.’

Kelly interrupts. ‘Rudy’s…well, he’s yay high’, she gestures above her head, ‘Talks a lot, can split into two, that sort of thing.’

‘Powers are very strictly regulated’, Simon offers, like he’s quoting legislation. ‘Maybe he’s undercover. Or a spy?’

‘I doubt it. He’s the kinda bloke who doesn’t blend into a crowd, believe me’, Kelly smiles. ‘Speaking of, where’s Nathan?’

‘Who’s Nathan?’ Simon asks curiously, as Alisha shrugs.

*

Alisha's willing to follow Kelly, it's not like she's being torn away from pressing work or anything, and at any rate, Kelly's got a gun; but it's making her nervous being in the cells. Shaun and his officer mates are always swapping stories about the prisoners, the weird stuff they can do, the terrible crimes they've committed to get in there. 

But Kelly reckons if her mates are anywhere, they'll have ended up in the cells - 'Let's face it, that's what they did back home', she says, honestly - so they're peering around. 

If anyone asks, Kelly's cleaning, the colour of her jumpsuit marking her as an offender; and Alisha long ago perfected a dizzy giggle when she's caught where she's not supposed to be. Simon, name-tag emblazoned across his chest like a flag, is in the most danger, but he's good at blending in, like he's a chameleon against the grey walls, invisible.

There's no luck finding anyone matching Rudy's description, and a bloke called Peter says the jail for Rhinelanders is on a separate wing, ruling out Curtis; but there's a bloke who just got moved to Gary-down-the-way's cell who might fit Nathan's description: 'Tall, loud? Possibly Mischling?'

Kelly doesn't recognise the term, but Alisha frowns warningly at Peter, who holds up his hands. 'Just what I heard! Might be the curls.'

Simon thanks him politely, lips pressed together tightly, and they continue onwards. Kelly seems to know Gary before he identifies himself, pointing at him before she's even at the cell. 'Where's Nathan?' she asks him, Alisha tugging at her sleeve. 

'Shh! We're not supposed to be here, remember?' 

Kelly lowers her volume, although to Alisha's mind, it's still only decibels below convoy level. 'Irish? Dark hair? Never shuts up?' She continues at Gary, who shrugs. 

'What, the new guy? They did tell me he came on the ferry from Midlands nick. Got a list of infractions longer than a book, too. Theft. Public drunkenness. Rassenchande. Narcotics possession. Disorderly conduct. Solicitation.' 

The bloke on the camp-bed to Gary's left spreads his hands, a comical 'What, me?' gesture; catching the trio's attention for the first time.

'Nathan!' Kelly calls, and sure enough, he fits the description, although his dark hair has been cropped short. 

He nods, bemused, shrugs a little. 

'Won't get much out of him, love', Gary offers helpfully. 'Like I said, he was on his last chance ten chances ago, and from what I heard from the draft boys processing, he didn't give them the easier journey over, neither.'

Kelly pauses, and when she speaks, her voice is lower than Alisha could have imagined it went. 'What'd they do?' 

Simon looks like he's going to be sick, but he doesn't drop his dazed stare into the cell, and his voice doesn't break. 'Standard procedure for repeat offenders, particularly those openly flouting Section Five of the Public Order Act.'

Kelly waits, biting her lip. After five seconds, she breaks. 'Well, fookin' spit it out already!'

'They perform an elinguation. It's a removal of the top part of the tongue.' Simon's mouth twists, like he tastes something bitter. 'You can still work afterwards, though. Nazis aren't big on compassionate leave.' 

Alisha turns at that, pulls Kelly's sleeve, points upwards. She doesn’t even want a cigarette, really, but the dark cell is starting to make her feel claustrophobic, hot and dizzy. 

Kelly looks like she could do with some air, too, she's white as a sheet of paper, hands trembling. 

Alisha gestures to Simon, but he just shakes his head, staring down at his name tag like he's in a trance. She doesn't push it. 

*

On the roof, she brings up the first thing she can think of, a question to distract Kelly, distract them both. If she thinks about the cells - fuck, the other wings, other nicks even - starts trying to do the maths in her head from the paperwork she's handled for Shaun (two or three to a cell, ten cells to a block, five blocks to a wing...), she knows she's gonna puke, so instead she asks Kelly: ‘What she’s like? Your me, I mean?’

‘She's my best mate’, Kelly says, looking at her hands. ‘Well, you and Nathan.’ 

Alisha makes a face, not liking the idea of that weirdo being her competition.

‘It’s different with you, though. He’s like…I dunno, like my cousin, or something. She…you get me. Maybe it’s cos of our powers.’

‘We have powers where you’re from?’ Alisha’s intrigued. ‘What can I do? Fly?’

‘You…you had this power, anyone who touched you wanted to shag you.’

Alisha looks gobsmacked. ‘…Gross.’ She manages, eventually, and Kelly laughs.

‘Pretty much. I mean, you didn’t think so at first, but…I dunno. It’s not like you got to pick which guy it worked on or sumthin’, or stop them if they got rough…’

‘…Did it work on just guys?’ Alisha asks, fiddling with the lighter, like it’s got the secrets of the Fuhrer printed on the back of it. 

‘Don’t know. You never touched any girls that I saw.’ Kelly says in a neutral tone. ‘I could read minds. Yours was the first thoughts I picked up on, thought I was going mental!’

Alisha creases her brow. ‘Why? What was I thinking?’

‘How I needed to stop scraping my hair back’, Kelly scowls, and Alisha can’t help but giggle a little at her annoyed expression.

‘Annnnnnyway,’ Kelly drawls, ‘we changed them over eventually, yours was doing your head in, from what you said; and it got on my tits, keep hearing what wankers were thinking ‘bout me… Now I can do electronic shit, and you can see through people’s eyes.’

‘That’d be useful, I could see when Shaun was coming.’ Alisha says under her breath. 

‘There was a bloke like him back where I came from. Don’t need to read minds to know he’s an arsehole.’

‘You must think I’m a slag’, Alisha mutters. ‘I didn’t want to start up with him, I feel like shit him just looking at me, never mind…the rest. I just…he got me out of some shit, and I owed him, and…well, it’s good to have a bloke about who thinks I’m into him. The government are strict enough when you’re mixed, if someone started spreading rumours about anything else, I’d be…well, look at your mate back there.’

‘Gotta do what you’ve gotta do,’ Kelly says after a long pause. ‘We all do stuff we’re ashamed of. If I’d have grown up here, I’d already be in there, too, I reckon.’ 

Alisha feels a little better, and after Kelly shoots Shaun, a lot better. ‘I’m with her’, she tells Simon, proudly, and when he rips off his badge in agreement; she thinks she can see for the first time what Kelly meant on the roof, about how in her time they're all sort of...well, superheroes.


End file.
